


Corrosive Force

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dark Ending, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Rape, bad guy wins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-14 11:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5741155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Resistance cannot possibly stage a rescue with its limited resources, and the First Order isn't lucky enough to find their location and try to blow it up. In the time between, Rey has no hope of escape because no one's stupid enough to leave a weak-willed Stormtrooper standing around. It means Kylo has all the time in the galaxy to take what he wants from her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash, pretty much. Ugly, ugly trash. *Disclaimer* I'm not super familiar with Star Wars, and my knowledge of the Force is limited to Old Republic stuff. Basically, it works however the hell I want it to. Also Kylo is kinda OOC. Oops.

He feels the Stormtrooper before he sees him, and as Kylo rounds the corner the man’s unease spikes into fear. His lip curls even as he lets himself enjoy it, enjoys the way he can feel the sharp, hopeless alarm sinking into the dark side within him, boosting his power. His display after Rey invaded his mind and forced him to retreat from the room had been – extravagant. Kylo is aware of that fact. But smashed monitors, sparking equipment, terrorized Stormtroopers, they all have their part to play. They feed him and he feasts on the rage and terror just as the Supreme Leader taught him, and it makes him strong.

Strong enough to control Rey, he is certain.

At his curt gesture, the Stormtrooper on guard outside the cell opens the door, and there is a brief pause, a hesitation he won’t let himself acknowledge before Kylo enters the room. He is not afraid, but the blood rushing through his veins feels electric, almost uncomfortably so, his mind still dwelling on her unexpected resistance. The chair, its back turned to him, is a dead zone. Already she’s learning to shield herself from his reach, and he can sense nothing from her. Not yet, at least.

His voice is distorted by the mask but still clear as he throws a command over his shoulder. “Close the door, and do not open it unless the Supreme Leader wishes to speak with me. Do not open it… no matter what you hear.”

If his attention had waned at all, Kylo may have missed what he is looking for, so quickly does it pass. But the girl is still learning, and Kylo catches her dread before she can smother it. It heightens his confidence and as a metallic _whoosh_ indicates the Stormtrooper followed his command, he slowly steps around the chair, never looking at her. The mask is unnecessary, and without the drama of last time he slips it off, sets it down, notes without reacting the way her breath is suddenly loud in the quiet room. His gloves are next, pulled from his hands with languid grace, and as he tucks them into his belt he glances up.

She is staring at him, her face a bloodless mask of defiance despite the restraints holding her in place, and something deep in his chest stirs. _There is no emotion; there is peace._ An insipid Jedi saying, a lie he’d been brazenly told by Skywalker, an empty platitude for the weak to take comfort in instead of confronting whatever emotions stalk them. Mouth twisting wryly, Kylo mutters, “Peace is a lie; there is only passion,” and waits a few seconds for a reply. He does not receive one, but the confusion that furrows her brows is enough.

A scavenger. A simple, inconsequential scavenger untrained in the Force. _Can that truly be all she is?_ Coming closer, he lifts his hand to her face, pauses as she grits her teeth and turns away from him as well as she can manage. Her revulsion intrigues him, and it is a struggle not to attempt to break down her mind’s barriers and find what he wants to know immediately. Fingers hovering over her skin, aching to make contact, he finds the gentleness in his voice as he speaks surprises him.

“Rey, do you know what happened? Before I left your mind?”

Her breathing rasps in her throat, and for a moment he thinks she has decided to remain silent. Just before he pushes harder, her chin comes up, dark eyes flashing back to him. “I beat you,” she says, and the words would have been quiet if they hadn’t thundered with satisfaction.

Kylo stiffens and draws away. The rage is instantaneous, a welcome heat that adds to the fire of his power even as it eats away at his control. His smile is tight and fixed, but he doesn’t let it drop as he replies. “You’re right. You did.”  

And then he raises his hand.

She can’t scream; the pressure against her throat guarantees that. He watches her writhe, wrists jerking at the restraints on the chair, desperately straining to draw in the breath that he denies her. There is – something. A response. A push against his power, hardly noteworthy. Kylo thinks she must be trying to stop him, and his smile becomes grim and chilling as he leans over her, casually places one hand next to her head and the other on her neck. Her pulse staggers unevenly under his light grip as her struggles for air become weaker, and against the fury inside he knows he’s going to strangle her if he doesn’t let up.

As Kylo lessens the Force, he increases the strength of his grasp around her throat, not enough to suffocate her, just enough to make each choking breath she heaves a challenge. Her shields have come crashing down, and though he makes no attempt to invade her mind, it is no task to feel the terror and pain radiating from her. Slowly his rage is dissipating, replaced by a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with kindness. “Rey,” he says softly, “I’m going to promise you something today. Are you listening?”

She’s stopped looking at him, her mind struggling to flee far away even though her body is restrained, but it will be a long, long time before he allows Rey to find a safe place in her head. Leaning closer, pushing his weight against her even as his grip tightens, Kylo relishes the clipped gasp she makes as she bucks, trying to throw him off. He entangles his free hand in Rey’s loosened bun, yanks her head back until a low whimper slips out, the girl struggling to jerk away even against the pain. Her frantic attempts don’t last for long, not with his fingers resting on her slender neck. Within a few moments she subsides, trembling, reduced to panting for more air as he puts his mouth to her ear. “I want the map that’s in your head, Rey. I need it. And I’m going to take it from you.”

He lets go of her abruptly, pushes himself away, surprised by the surge of lust that takes him as he steps to the chair’s console, his back to her. Her shuddering breath teeters on the edge of sobs, but she doesn’t cry. Grudgingly, Kylo admits to himself that she’s impressed him. Caught his attention. Now… and before. It’s been some time since he’s had anyone challenge him, let alone send him into retreat.

His breath explodes out at the thought and he straightens, glances behind him. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Where is Skywalker?”

Her eyes are shut tight, as though to drown out the reality of what is happening. He thinks she’s beginning to understand just what he’s willing to do to get what he needs. “I don’t _know,_ ” Rey cries, at once desperate and earnest. “I’m not – I don’t know anything. I’m just a scavenger!” Kylo might even have believed it, if he hadn’t seen inside her skull to the truth.

“You’ve seen the map, Rey. You can give it to me, and this will be over.” Silence from behind him, no longer mutinous but steely, resolved. He doubts she will ever let him in willingly.

An intense throb of desire has his hands pressing white knuckled against the console, and for the first time Kylo considers – really considers – what Snoke has told him to do. Distaste, unwillingness, a vague sense of wrongness; it had crowded him when the Supreme Leader spoke his commands. He had been reluctant to begin the task placed before him.

Now, he’s shaken to realize how eager he is to begin.

“It is very difficult to fully break into the mind of someone who wields the Force.” His tone is lecturing, devoid of emotion, and he feels the affect the sudden change has over her. Doubt and dread leave little room for the defiance trying to latch onto his words, and he gives her no time for hope. “To enter the mind of a Force user, there must be cracks large enough to push into. And if there are no cracks in your mind…” Kylo’s hands fly over the console, and the click of the restraints opening mixes with Rey’s startled intake.

He turns to her, smiles a smile that shows more teeth than amusement. “If there are no cracks in your mind, then I’m going to have to make some.”

Rey’s harsh life has sharpened her, and he is pleased rather than surprised when she suddenly launches herself off the chair, flings herself at him. It is a brave attempt. Useless, of course. But there’s nothing in his training that says he can’t admire futile sacrifices even as he accepts them.

His concussion of power flings her away from him, and she barely misses the chair before hitting the opposite wall of the cell with a dull thud. A second later and Kylo’s standing over her, sensing the ache radiating from her shoulder, the disorientation, the anger that’s quickly turning into something stronger as she twists to get her feet under her. He lets the girl stand but doesn’t move back, crowding her against the wall.

“Do you see, Rey?” he asks, gentle again, as though he hasn’t just hurled her away from him. She’s glaring, but it’s a weak expression, battling with the sharp throbbing of her bruised body, the hammering of her heart, the slick sweat on her skin. He can feel it. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

When her fist flies at his throat Kylo doesn’t bother using the Force; he catches Rey’s wrist, twists it with deliberately cruel strength even as he grabs her other arm and slams her against the wall. She gasps, but before she can twist away he does what he’s been craving to do since he entered the room.

He invades her mind.

There’s nothing to stop him this time. Rey’s every emotion, magnified by his actions – hurt, rage, revulsion – are weapons he uses against her, consuming the feelings to make himself more powerful even as he swipes aside her resistance. This time, she won’t be able to drive him away. This time, she won’t come anywhere close to him. This time, he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

Distantly Kylo is aware of grinding against her, of her warm breath flooding over his face as she struggles. She’s strong – not unexpectedly – but he’s stronger, and he knows that under his relentless grip her skin will be bruising, can feel the way his fingers press dents and pain into her flesh. It’s an unexpected pleasure, the thought of Rey carrying his marks even after he’s gone, and he grunts, rolls his hips against her harder.

Inside her mind, she’s all around him now. There’s no disbelief in the stark illumination of her thoughts. No hope of rescue. He knows, as she knows, that no one is coming to save the scavenger from Jakku. She’s all alone. Even as Kylo pushes further into her head, he appreciates her realism, the way she knows what he’s going to do to her and isn’t trying to hide herself from it. It’s not that she’s resigned – every few seconds he has to brace himself against her mental attacks – it’s that she’s aware that she’s the only one who can stop him.

Not that she will. “So strong.” The words slip out easily and he registers her surprise before he realizes how reverently he’s said them. A flash of annoyance makes him continue. “But you’re so alone now. Where are your friends, Rey?”

Under the influence of her grief, her mind warps into something flat and dark, and he passes impatiently over each memory he finds, trying to find the ones that matter. “FN-2187 isn’t going to come. Cowards never do. Your BB-8 unit is probably with the Resistance. You helped it complete its mission, and it’s forgotten you now. And Solo? Solo has always been good at abandoning those who need him.”

His whispered words hurt her, but she’s taking a strange comfort in them too, and it takes him a moment to understand the emotion in her thoughts. Relief. She’s actually _glad_ that her friends won’t be in danger, wherever that might leave her. Kylo’s annoyance spikes higher, into something harsher and colder, and he swears she won’t be glad for long.

Slowly he strips through her head, and she can’t stop him. He lingers over her loneliness, sits through the nights she tosses and turns in her pathetic little shelter, despairing of ever finding someone who cares. He watches her generate warmth for herself, if only for a moment, and the memories, saturated with the humiliation of the present, only make him harder. There’s nothing she can do. Nothing, that is, until he hits a barrier that won’t move, a Force enhanced block that stands firm under his onslaught, makes it impossible to advance further.

Kylo is certain she isn’t putting it up consciously. It’s just her natural talent manifesting itself, building into a wall to protect what she values most.

An almost-snarl rips from between his teeth and she gasps, her wrist bones grating under his palms as his lust and frustration peak. “The _map,_ ” he all but growls, slamming his leg between her thighs, shoving them apart, her struggles nothing to his Force fed strength. “ _Give it to me_.”

“I wo-”

He drowns her denial under his feverish mouth. She isn’t expecting the kiss – if it can be called that. His teeth grate against her lips, cut them, and he tastes blood as her mind is rocked by sudden, unstinting horror. Perhaps she hadn’t truly believed the unspoken promise between them, because the barricade begins to break under her shock, and hungrily he pushes in further even as the kiss continues, a violent contact that she cannot break, no matter how she tries to pull away.

_Blue lines stretching out in a spider web of instructions, leading on and on through clusters of white hot lights, leading to –_

A thought darts through her head and he jerks his face away. Caught in the hazy memory of the map, he’s not quite fast enough; her teeth catch the edge of his lip, tear it before he steps back. His first blow rocks her head back, the force of it partially knocking him out of her mind as the back of her head connects with the wall. His knuckles stinging, Kylo’s second punch, sinking into the hard muscles of her stomach, would have doubled her over if he hadn’t kept her upright with the Force.

The sound she makes – a heaving gasp – has him pausing, his fingers flexing and uncurling in an unconscious display of his rage. Kylo brings his shaking hand to his lip, pulls it away and examines the blood with something close to livid fascination. She made him _bleed._ He should have expected it, but he didn’t, and now his sight is almost staggering with the fury pounding at his temples.

Rey’s crying. It takes him a long time to realize what the muffled sound is over the sound of his own harsh breathing. Somehow it calms him down, makes him drop his hand. He’s still in control. That’s all that matters.

“Rey,” he says, coming closer and relishing the way she flinches from him. His fingers trail over the red mark blooming across her cheek where he struck her, pointedly wiping away the trail of tears, and he continues. “If you bite me again, I’m going to make you regret it.”

Her ragged laugh is so hopeless it doesn’t even make him angry. “What could you _possibly_ do that you won’t do already?” she demands, and he cups his hand against her face, forces her red rimmed eyes up to his.

“There’s a small junk town on Jakku by the name of Niima Outpost,” he says quietly, gradually insinuating into her mind again, the better to experience her slow understanding. “It’s of little value, little note. It was, however, recently discovered to have harbored two insurgents against the First Order.” The understanding is coming more rapidly now, and her jaw flexes under his palm as she clenches it. “At my command, that little outpost could be razed to its ashes, every inhabitant wiped away like the garbage they are.”

“You _bastard_.”

Kylo laughs, shakes his head. “Bastard? No. Unfortunately, I know exactly who my father is.”

Before she can reply his expression changes, becomes intent, remote. He’s finding himself abruptly tired of this game. “You are strong in the Force,” he states, his hand falling to the shoulder of her loose scavenger outfit. “But your attachment to lesser beings makes you weak. And it’s going to make you lose everything.”

Watching the growing tension on her face and enjoying it, he slowly pulls the light fabric to the side, draping it down her shoulder and arm until her bound breast is uncovered. “You wondered what it would feel like,” he observes, entrenched in her head. “You wanted to know what it would be like to be touched. I can show you.” Aware of him inside her, Rey’s denial rises like a hurricane, but he relentlessly pulls forward the days spent watching couples hold hands, or stroke antennae, press snouts to feelers. Alien or not, there was intimacy on Jakku, and she had none. And as much as it humiliates her to relive it, she wanted it. Wants it even now, a shadow of physical desire heavy in the depths of her mind for all of her screaming rejection. Her curiosity arouses him all the more, and Kylo pushes her legs apart, stands so close his groin is pressed against her.

He can feel her trying to resist him, to physically break free of her immobilization or force him from her mind, but it’s a useless effort. The other side of her shirt follows shortly after, leaving her bound chest bared in a wide V to her stomach, and Rey’s face is red, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she struggles. One side of his mouth curls, and he places his hand between her breasts, gathers up the plain strip of cloth she uses and rips it away.

Each frantic breath she takes makes her pale breasts bounce, and when he pulls his eyes up to her face, there’s a new sort of desperation, a raw hopelessness that hasn’t been present until now. “Don’t do this,” Rey says, and her voice breaks on the last word, fear and humiliation making a jagged pathway for the request to travel.

Unhurriedly Kylo strokes one of her nipples, already stiff in the cold of the cell, his hands almost too large against her small breasts. He rolls it between thumb and finger, pulls at it until she’s gasping and twisting under his ungentle touch. Eventually he lets go. “Give me a reason not to, Rey. And I won’t.”

In her head, an anguished collision of animalistic impulse to escape against her morality, her love for these people with whom she feels such a connection. It’s fascinating, the panicked, primal needs dancing across her thoughts, and Kylo realizes suddenly that even if she gives up, even if she lets him access the map now – he won’t stop. He can’t.

And she doesn’t give up, anyways. Slowly, like someone pulling themselves up from the edge of a cliff, her face hardens, becomes the mask she was attempting to wear when he first interrogated her. That’s fine. He enjoyed breaking it that time, too.

When the silence stretches on and it becomes clear she will not speak, he puts his hands around her hips, pulls her hard against him so that she can feel his erection. “You’re a scavenger,” Kylo observes idly, ducking his head to press his lips against her collarbone. When his teeth scrape across her skin, she gasps. “You’re good at finding things.” His hand settles on her breast again, his grip cruel as it digs into her yielding flesh, and she cries out, a short, quickly checked noise.

He drops both hands, unfastens the worn belt at her waist. As he begins to pull it away he rubs against her, the building heat between them making a groan slip between his lips even as a sob slips from hers. He’s never been so hard in his life, and as he imagines her helpless and naked, writhing under him, he only gets harder.

Kylo’s hands slide into the waist of her pants, gently easing them down, and he’s breathing so hard it’s almost difficult to speak as he presses his mouth to her ear. “I think you’re looking for a reason to give me exactly what I want, Rey. Let’s see if we can find it - together.”

And though her mind shudders with revulsion and denial, it doesn’t stop him from pressing his mouth against hers for another rough kiss.

She doesn’t bite him this time, and against her lips Kylo smiles.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay, here it is. A warning for everyone involved. This didn't... pan out like I originally intended, and it's a lot more emotional than I thought it would be. Apologies if this isn't what you were looking for. Hopefully some can still enjoy it, and, as ever, thanks for reading.

Unconscious, clothed and dragged into the cell by a pair of Stormtroopers, Rey had been pretty. Conscious and furious, she’d been beautiful.

Naked and despairing, she’s stunning.

Her clothes are a discarded pile kicked to the side by his impatient boots, and as Kylo stands in front of her she holds one arm across her chest, the other over the soft space between her legs. Her thighs are muscular, made strong by years of climbing, and her shoulders are similarly built, not broad but still sinewy. His bold, leering regard has her jaw set so tightly her cheekbones are almost painfully prominent, and the stark red of embarrassment lends a pleasing amount of colour to her otherwise pale face.

He circles around her, smirking at her stiff refusal to follow his movement, and examines her from behind. There are small, pale scars across her back and shoulders, jagged lines he delves into her head to find the origin of. Even in this she fights him, her slim body shaking with the strength of her rejection as he drags out the memories of a past long wiped away. Harsh hands and harsher demands making their mark on her body and mind, claiming more and more from the slight child who had such skill at scavenging. Taking from her until she learned how to find enough for herself, to stand strong and need no one and put the memories behind her.

It surprises him how much he hates the thought of anyone else touching her.

When he has more time, he’s going to go through each and every recollection Rey has, walk through them until he owns them as much as owns her. Until then, the adamant block protecting the map is reformed, harder and stronger than ever, and Kylo pauses before continuing his prowling circle, reminding himself that for all that he might enjoy this, he has a purpose. A goal. And the Supreme Leader will not take kindly to a second failure.    

He’s not controlling her – she is not so weak that constant control is easy – and it’s hard to reconcile his arousal with his objective. Kylo wants her straining and breathless under him, wants her tight around his cock, but he’s seen into her mind. She’s prepared. Or at least, she thinks she is. And if this plays out exactly as she’s imagining it in her head, she’ll bruise but she won’t break. 

He can’t help but admire her resolve even as he coldly plans to shatter it.

As Kylo moves around her his steps are wary, his attention sharp for any sign of attacking within her mind. Yet Rey can hardly think, let alone plan out an escape or aggression. All she has is her determination to resist, and it’s a thin bulwark against everything else. She’s struggling so hard with her panic that it makes it difficult to read her current thoughts at all.

He doesn’t like that much.

Stopping behind her, he breathes in the scent of sweat and sand, reaches out a hand and trails it through the thick strands that have largely escaped from her severe hair ties. When Rey jerks, about to pull away, his hand traps her hair in a fist and pulls her head back. She stills herself, clearly aware of the threat of violence, and after several seconds Kylo lets her go.

“It’s amusing,” he reflects, and she jumps at his voice, accustomed to the silence he let fall in place as he removed her clothes. His lips twitch and Kylo continues, low and sardonic. “Before, when I had done nothing to harm you, you wanted to kill me.” He moves closer, uses one arm to pull her to his chest even as the other traps the elbow she throws at his stomach. Her back is hot through his robes, and he can feel the discomfort of the material scraping across her skin as she thrashes against his hold. When she moves he moves too, grinding against her in mocking mimicry until she finally understands and stops resisting.

Leaning down, holding her shuddering frame tightly against him, his lust making it hard to focus, he lets his voice become husky. “Now, after what I’ve done… After what I’m going to do…” He licks her neck, her sweat salty on his tongue, the meaning plain. “All you want to do is run. Would your friends be proud?”

In another time, in another place, the torrent of rage that abruptly floods through her head might have been disturbing, even frightening. It obliterates the panic – as he intended – and leaves Rey’s insides sharp and dark, almost vibrating with a hatred stronger than anything she’s ever experienced it before. As it is, her words, spat with enough vitriol to melt steel, just excite him. “I don’t want to _run_ ,” she promises, and he senses something, a shift in the Force brought about by the sheer malice of her intent.

Fury, hate… they are strong. Stronger than anything the Light side of the Force can offer. But Kylo already felt the barrier placed so brazenly across the map inside her head, and the Dark side of the Force has nothing to do with that block. If he can’t break through the wall himself, he just needs to make Rey reach for the energy sustaining it and break it herself.

It’s just a matter of pressure and time. And since he’s running out of the latter, it’s about time to increase the former.

Seamlessly he lets go of her elbow and slides his hand to her shoulder, steps to the side, keeps his leg out – and yanks her backwards. She catches on his extended foot and collapses onto her back, the force of the fall knocking the air from her body in a strangled gasp. Kylo watches her back arch, her lips trembling and her legs spread as she wheezes. Before she can get her wind back his fingers move to his belt and he unfastens it, lets it drop to the ground in a rumpled heap.

Robe and shirt follow with quick, careless motions, and immediately his skin prickles in the cool of the cell. It feels good to be away from the stifling heat of his clothes, to have just his tight pants between him and her. Kylo takes a step towards the girl, who has lifted herself to her elbows as he undressed. She’s staring – not at him, not exactly – and it takes him a moment to realize what she’s looking at.

His long fingers cradle the hilt of his lightsaber, and Kylo unhooks it. There’s a hunger in her gaze, and he can feel her brutal longing as an intensity that falters only when his thumb brushes across the switch and his lightsaber crackles to life. The static murmur is the whispering of an old friend, and Kylo twirls the blade, tauntingly half offering it, and admires the play of red light that slashes across Rey’s face even as she pulls herself back. She’s caught between her fury and – and something else he can’t quite read, something based in the near past, something intriguing and mystifying that he promises himself he’ll investigate later, when there’s more time to play.

“You think you could kill me with this?” he asks, and Rey swallows, the strange emotion vanishing into something more understandable; anger, a desperate urge to snatch the weapon from his hands, paralyzing dread, an overwhelming realization that the person standing before her is a monster. With a hollow laugh his thumb flicks and the lightsaber dies. “I don’t think you could,” he says, and takes his time setting the hilt on the console next to his long abandoned gloves.

When he turns back to her, Rey has pushed herself to the wall, sits with her shoulders pressed against the cold cage, her legs drawn up to her chest. Her thoughts are sick with self-loathing and fear, his question mocking her weakness and hesitation from every angle. She’s almost hyperventilating and her open mouth is achingly vulnerable as she hugs her knees. She looks so lost – so young – that for a moment his stance falters, mind flying back to a group of children cut down as they cried. As _he_ cried, and continued to swing his saber anyways.

“Rey,” he rasps, and she jerks like his voice is a puppeteer pulling at her strings. She doesn’t look at him though, not even as he crouches in front of her, but her hands pull more firmly against her slender legs. “This is your last chance,” Kylo says, and convinces himself that he’s only talking about her.

She swears at him in Huttese and his hand shoots out, clamps around her leg as he drags her towards him. The firm muscles of her calf strain under his bruising touch and when she tries to kick him he makes a curt motion, restraining her with invisible bands of the Force. The effort of keeping himself in her mind as well as controlling her makes him sweat, a headache building behind his eyes, but the exertion feels good. He wouldn’t enjoy it if she didn’t show him her strength.

When he pulls her closer she slumps against the wall and then on to her back, unable to sit up or otherwise support herself. Her dry eyes stare up at the ceiling of the cell, but as Kylo straddles her hips they blink rapidly and he knows she’s just barely holding back tears.

Her body is tense and trembling between his legs, and the aching pressure in his groin responds, throbbing as he indulgently shifts on her, the scraping of his pants against her bare skin competing with their heavy breathing. Kylo leans forward, gently pulls her frozen hands away from her breasts. “Open your mind to me, Rey,” he whispers, and part of him – an unrestrained, savage part – wonders why he’s still trying. She doesn’t reply, her mind screaming _no no no_ over and over again, and the brutal need in him crests up, wiping away whatever wavering emotion held him back.

She truly becomes aware of how large he is as he shifts to kneel between her legs, and it’s another fear added to an already significant list. He lets himself – _forces_ himself – to inhale that fear, beating back his headache with another surge of emotion fed energy, feeling his lust spike even as his strength did. His hand slips to the inside of her thigh, almost lazily, and Kylo strokes Rey’s soft skin and watches the way her delicate brows crease at his touch, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. The futility of her struggle is almost drowning her, turning her mind numb, and he knows he can’t allow that if he wants her to crack.

When his finger pushes into her she gasps, eyes snapping shut in familiar denial. She’s hot and dry to his touch, and as he works his finger inside her Kylo leans closer, sucks on her earlobe, kisses her jaw, her neck, working his way down to her breasts. It’s not kindness that makes him swirl his tongue around her stiffening nipple, or any intent to please that has him rubbing against her clit. Securely set in her mind, he can feel all of her sensitive spots, can feel each low thrum of pleasure when he touches them, and he focuses on drawing out stronger and stronger reactions from her shivering flesh. It takes time, but his patience is fed by the stifled sounds she makes, the helpless confusion, the degradation as her body slowly responds to him. She thought being raped would be the most horrendous thing she could experience.

She knows the truth, now. Enjoying it is worse.

By the time Kylo’s done her thighs are wet, the space between her legs slick and swollen, and each little whimper she makes strums his wire tight muscles until he’s practically vibrating. He doesn’t know if it’s enough, but he can’t hold himself any longer. The scent of her unwilling arousal clings to his hands, hot and sticky, and he’s almost fumbling as he pulls his pants away from his burning skin. Rey’s gasping now, waves of pleasure and panic melding together until she can hardly separate the two.

When he pushes her legs wider apart she comes back to herself, just a little, and from the haze he’s sunk her into she cries, “Stop. _Stop._ Please, I can’t -”

The sheer gratification of hearing her beg breaks his focus; her body suddenly jerks, freed from the oppressive weight of the Force. He’s too roused to push the bonds back into place, but it doesn’t matter now. When Rey squirms, abruptly aware of her false freedom, he lets his weight fall on her, pinning her to the smooth floor. With one hand he grabs both of her wrists, yanks them between their searing bodies. He can feel her pulse pounding against his fingers and as her pleasure falters, terror and rage rushing to fills its place, he guides himself to her with his free hand.

Her dark eyes are wide and he meets them with breathless intensity. “Will you scream when I take you, Rey?” he asks, and her mind erupts into familiar paths of molten defiance, slowed by her own arousal, heightened as he adds, “I hope you do.”

Rey’s mouth is curling into a snarl when Kylo pushes himself inside her, and her angry lips transform nearly perfectly into a cry of pain. For all that they’re both wet and ready, she’s too small and he’s too big for them to fit together comfortably, and even as he slams into her again, dragging her hips against the floor, her back arches, molding them together more firmly as she tries to escape the hurt. He moves automatically, quickly finding a rhythm that does nothing to ease her, savoring the pulsing tension that envelopes his cock each time he slides in. Each time he drives into her their sounds mingle together, a grunt from him and a moan from her, and if each thrust is almost painfully tight even for him, the livid sensations he gets from Rey’s head are enough to bring him over the edge if nothing else will.

The agony mounts inside of her, a presence so strong he can almost see it, and as he reaches his peak she breaks. Pleasure rips through his groin, heat and electricity and liquid, and feral, infuriated need explodes from Rey, driving his climax higher and longer than anything he’s ever experienced before. She thrashes, inside and out, frantic for anything that will let her hurt him just as badly he’s hurting her.

She finds the wall and the energy its built from, protectively covering the map that has come to mean so much to her, and ragged, twisted by what he’s done, Rey doesn’t hesitate.

She rips the wall down.

She tries to use the energy to push him back, to slash him apart like he’s done to her.

And Kylo uses all of the emotion in the room, draws it to him, drinks it in until he’s so full of it he’s threatening to overflow with the brilliant power. And with one deadening, grueling shove, he slams a lid on the Force around her, shutting it out, blanketing it until he can hardly sense that it’s there. He’s never tried it before, but the Supreme Leader explained the process, and he’s able to suck so much potent force from Rey’s hate that it’s almost easy to temporarily cut her off.  

Rey feels the moment he stops her. She feels it, and suddenly she’s rigid with the knowledge of what’s she’s done. Her tense body sags, broken; he lets go of her wrists and they fall limply to her sides. She’s so bewildered and heartbrokenly guilty that he can’t take as much enjoyment from her loss as he wants to, and it’s only the afterglow of his orgasm that’s softening her bitter wretchedness. Maybe it will be better when he leaves her head, leaves the desolated landscape of her mind, but for the moment Kylo reaches out, touches her cheek. Carefully, so carefully, like she might break apart under his fingers.

“I told you that you couldn’t resist me,” he whispers. “There’s nothing more you could have done.”

She thinks he’s mocking her, luxuriating in her misery as she chokes on a sob, but that isn’t it. His body is shaking as he pulls out of her, and he’s never had such a gut clenching reaction to being with someone before. The impact is so powerful it makes it hard to focus, and it’s a struggle to shift his hand up from her cheek, to press his palm to her forehead. The contact is basic, something only a child Force user should really need, but the damp warmth of her skin grounds him, and finally – finally – Kylo does what he set out to do.

He takes the map from her. The brilliant lines, the white stars, he pulls them from her exhausted mind. In and of itself the map means nothing to him, but the techs will be able to piece it together with what they already have, and they’ll find Skywalker. It will finally be over. They’ll end him, end the Resistance, end Han and Leia Solo, end everyone involved.

Well. Not everyone.

Slowly Kylo pushes himself to his knees next to her, and as soon as his weight shifts from her Rey rolls onto her side, curls up with her arms tucked across her chest, clear white fluid staining her thighs. Shaking and shell-shocked, like the sole survivor of a cataclysm, her thoughts are ugly with grief and hatred. Not for him, though. It’s almost painful to watch the words flowing through her mind.

The girl knew what the map was. She knew it represented the hopes and ignorant freedom of hundreds of thousands of people. She knew it was the First Order’s victory or defeat. She knew.

And she gave it to _him_.

There’s nothing he can do to alleviate her anguish; he isn’t sure he’d do anything even if he could. Unstable and tired, his headache surging back with vengeful tenacity in the face of his hollow victory, Kylo staggers to his feet, pulls his hand from her. He observes her for a moment, detached in the grasp of his fatigue, and she’s still beautiful, though now it’s the way a jagged mountain top is beautiful. Broken and remote and lonely and untouchable.

Pulling himself from her head is like gasping in the first clean breath of air after hours of suffocating, and when he stands he sways, one hand reaching out to catch himself on the chair. Free from the toxic atmosphere, Kylo lightens, just slightly, though his fatigue isn’t something easily pushed away. She weighed on him, and he thinks the effort of forcing her back might have taken more from him than he initially thought. Still. He won. The Supreme Leader would be pleased, would reward him for his efforts.

Looking at the damaged girl naked and shivering on the floor, a testament and condemnation of his strength, Kylo knows exactly what he’s going to ask to be awarded.

Taken from the heap it was left in, his robe covers most of her body, and under the soft black material she shifts, uncoiling just slightly. He moves back, begins to don the rest of his clothes, firmly crushing any urge to enter her mind and see what she’s thinking. For the moment, he’s done with that. He has what he came for.

“I’ll be back for that tomorrow,” he says, not sure if he wants to frown or smile when she whimpers in response. Pulling on his gloves with sharp motions, his lightsaber back in its customary place, Kylo pauses by the door. There are ten thousand things he wants to say, and one hundred thousand things he wants to take back, but that’s never been anything new to Kylo. Easier to ignore it, to push it away, to revel in what he’s accomplished instead of what he’s destroyed.

He opens the door and leaves Rey to her thoughts and her silence. It’s the only kindness he has to give her after everything she's given him.                    


End file.
